The Small Reprieve and My Journey Through Pergatory
by 86753090227nb
Summary: How one choice changed Dallas Winston's life, and how Johanna Winston came to be.
1. Chapter 1

There was a time in my life when I thought, 'okay. This is it'. I thought that all life has to offer is a shitty town and a reputation. If that doesn't sound sad, then what does? I'll admit, the sixties were a rough time for me. Of course, I never realized that in my adolescence – the ignorance of the youth.

Now the veils come off, and I think I could've died from ignorance. I didn't though. Almost, but not yet.

The worsening feeling in my gut was my first inkling in my drunken state that my youth was dwindling away. I was seventeen – almost eighteen – at the time. Sometimes I think I was lucky to have figured out the mystery of life so early, and then sometimes I remember East Side New York and wonder why God hated me.

Now, I'm sitting on the stool at Buck's bar. Like everything else in Tulsa, it was falling apart and a good place for a party. I had a blonde hanging onto my arm, and was on my fifth beer by the time I got pissed.

"Ya know, people don't pay for their drinks no more? They don't. Then we got fights every other night and minors-" Buck griped in the country twang that made my flesh crawl. Any other night I would've told him to shut it and followed the broad upstairs. Tonight I just told him to shut it.

"Man, shut the f**k up" I ordered forcefully. He stopped wiping down the bar, and looked up at me – six feet, lanky with straw colored hair and buck teeth. The word 'bumpkin' comes to mind.

Johnny Cash blares from a stereo in a way that makes my head pound more than the beer does.

Buck says nothing - just realizes that he sounded like a little girl, and continued wiping the bar.

"I think I'm gonna leave" I say conversationally. The broad hissed something in my ear, but I just waved her off. I wasn't in the mood tonight, or really any night. Ever since Johnny died I hadn't been right – too emotional, too soft. I didn't even know why until years later. My unsteady feeling was only magnified by the alcohol – something that happens once in a blue moon, or in this case, when I drink too much.

Usually it's just two or three to get buzzed, but lately I've just wanted to drown my troubles the way everybody sings about or kill myself or something. The problem with that is by the time I'm on my fifth, i have ghosts; Johnny has been following me since that night in the hospital, but now I have my mother. Never all of her, just a glimpse or a sliver that I never remember.

I hate the ghosts. I hated a lot of things, not to mention people – the gang, even. I was kidding myself, though. I just wanted to blame somebody for his death, and knowing all the time that it was really my fault. I think that's why I've sat in an ally with a pistol more than once. I could never do it though; I was too scared. I'm only admitting that because it has to be acknowledged.

I read _Hamlet_ once – in the eighties I think, but he's right. Hamlet it. The only reason people don't go around offing themselves after every tragedy is our fear of the unknown. Hell, I'm terrified by the known.

I was thinking about this – about killing myself – when Buck replied to a comment that felt years away.

"Why?" He asks. Now he's cleaning glasses the way all bartenders seem to be doing constantly.

"Nothin' here" I slur, only proving my point by sliding off my stool and stumbling towards the door.

I'd become sloppy, my thoughts swirling like poison; thoughts like '_just jump. Off a building. Taller. In New York._"

While I considered this seriously, and the probability of dying once I hit the ground, I slowly walked towards the Curtis'. Darry had lent me his parent's bedroom for the time being while I 'got on my feet again'. That's how he said it, but I was never really on my feet. Jockeying for Slash J wasn't really a job – at least it brought the money in. Not anymore, though. Rodeos seemed few and far between now. The depressing part was that if I was a Soc, I would be in college with a girlfriend and living in my own mansion by now. Instead, life is passing me by; everybody, even the gang, is growing up when I just wish I could still play cowboys and Indians with them in the yard again.

Hell, even Two Bit got a job at the grocery store.

I was downtown now, passing dark alley ways and imagining monsters lunging at me from the shadows. A bloodcurdling scream made me stop and my heart rate increase.

I looked around until I heard it again coming from an alley I'd just passed. Slowly, I moved towards the dark, unable to see. I thought somebody was getting jumped or raped, but I was sorely mistaken.

I almost missed it – had I not been so slow and drunk, I might've; a possibility that used to terrify me. On the ground, in tattered blankets lay a baby. I have no idea what was going through my head, but I couldn't've been thinking straight. I lifted it up, struggling with the heaviness. Now, I realize it had to have been at least six months old. About forty pounds at least.

I carried it with me absently and cautiously. I had images of dropping it running through my head, though I'm not sure why it bothered me. Now I know. I was getting soft, and it was Johnny's fault.

_Stay Gold_. Whatever the Hell that meant. It occurred to me that the baby could've died just from being outside – it being about forty degrees then, yet I stumbled and swayed all the way to their house with the ghost following.

Once, when I was at their gate, I turned around to face them. Johnny and my mother.

"Get lost!" I slurred angrily. I sounded insane, and they smiled like they knew that.

"Go away!" I insisted. My breaths were coming faster now and white smoke formed in the air.

"Dallas?" I heard a voice reply. I turned around once again to find Ponyboy standing on the porch looking worriedly.

I cussed at the ghosts the best I could muster, and went up the steps and onto the porch.

"Whoa. What the heck?" He asked, looking terrified and confused at the same time. I didn't know what he was talking about for a minute, and even then I had no answer for him.

I just let him open the door for me while I went inside. Inside was a stark contrast to the outdoors – warm, and loud, and bright and _alive_. I welcomed it.

It only took a moment for everyone to notice me, and what I was harboring. Two-Bit and Soda looked the most excited about it, as though it was a stray that would be fun to play with.

Steve and Darry were more dubious, not to mention angry. And Pony, he just returned to his room with a finger stuck in a book.

"What the Hell?" seemed to be the question of the night, especially since it was all Steve and Darry could say.

"You want to explain yourself?" Darry asked, already adopting the parental voice he saves for Ponyboy.

"I'm not a kid, Darry" Was my ingenious remark. It only angered him more, while Steve was demanded how I'd acquired the kid.

I shrugged. "Just found it". Dear God, I was beginning to sound like Ponyboy.

"Found it?" Darry retorted. I nodded. All I could think about was sleeping, and maybe a shower. Diffidently not this.

"How do you just find a baby?"

"I just did" I replied. My words were coming slower, and took a while to get from my brain to my mouth.

"Well, you aren't keeping it. That's for sure" Darry ordered. I just glared at him; as if I had been considering keeping the damn thing.

"You think I don't know that? I damn well know that, _Darry_, so just f**ck off" I say scathingly.

Everybody was a little taken aback by my outburst, but they had to know it was coming. Ever since Johnny died, everyone had been walking on eggshells around me, like I was going blow up or kill someone. It messes with a person's head, and I was sick of it.

"Look here, you're sleeping in my house and eating my food, and if the State comes over we might well be in some deep _shit_, so I can talk about this if I want to. And bringing a _baby_? We're in enough trouble as is without having another mouth to feed" He yelled. His face was turning red, and I could detect the vein in his forehead he was so mad. I don't think he's been this mad since Pony and Johnny stayed out past curfew that one time. He put me in my place though, and he was right, but like hell I would admit that.

I just handed the baby to Soda, who was content to coddle it, and retreated to my temporary room. For a minute, I think Darry was about to pound on me, but only for a second. I would've gladly; all these emotions building up ain't healthy.

Instead, I fell into bed with a burning hatred against the baby, against Johnny, against my mother, wishing I could break something. Cursing everything and anybody, but mostly my curiosity along with the uncertainty of what would happen next.

The worry lulled me to sleep – worry and concern I hadn't felt in months – but it was a small reprieve.


	2. Chapter 2

I awoke at two in the afternoon the next day, with a headache and a churning in my stomach that sent me running to the bathroom.

I retched and retched, but I hadn't eaten much so not much came up, and once I was finished I rinsed my mouth out and looked myself over in the mirror. I needed to shave badly, but the hair was so pale it was hard to notice. I used to live by the philosophy 'don't fix something that ain't broken'. I guess I still do, even after all this time.

A knock landed on the door, once, twice, three times. I opened the bathroom door to see Pony standing there embarrassed.

"You okay?" He wondered, biting his cheek to keep from laughing at my appearance; I knew I looked a mess. I didn't need him reminding me.

"Yeah, man. And you best keep your mouth shut 'fore I do it for ya" I threaten angrily. I was too lousy feeling to rough him up even if I wanted to. Besides, I didn't much care. But Pony just bobbed his head and continued into the bathroom to grease up his hair, just like everybody else in this shit-hole town.

I never really got into it – the hair greasing – but I guess that's why I'm a hood, not a grease. Too much upkeep in it, and I don't think I'd look too good with it anyway. On my way to the kitchen I got a shaky cold feeling like when you get over the flu or something. I wasn't sure why, but I would know pretty soon.

Last night was a dream, and I couldn't piece all of it together yet – Darry could do that for me. I passed Steve, who was snoring on the couch, and Two-Bit who was occupying himself by playing Tic-Tac-Toe with himself on a scrap of Ponyboy's homework. I was going to the kitchen to grab my pack of Kools – Darry had forbidden smoking in his parent's room, or any bedroom really – which was my only reason to go to the kitchen. I stopped cold at the scene in the kitchen. It made my blood freeze and my heart pound.

Soda had the baby sitting on the table, his hands around its torso while the baby tried to get a stuffed bear into its mouth. It wasn't succeeding very well, or at all, and while I stared unable to move from the kitchen doorway I got a strange sense of Deja-vu. The eyes were dark, laughing, happy orbs shining up at Soda. I got a shiver that nobody else seemed to notice.

"Dal?" Soda asked, just beginning to notice me. I chose not to respond, but merely crossed my arms over my chest and scowled.

"That's a bad idea. We should just go ahead and leave it on some Soc's doorstep" I criticized. I was unable at that time to say gender in reference to the baby in a vain attempt to ignore it.

"Her" Soda corrected.

"What?" I replied, not really paying attention. If Soda hadn't just told me it was a girl, I could've been content never to know. I was doing this with the idea that every parent says when their children pick up a stray; don't name it. Don't interact and it'll be easier to forget. That's what I'm good at, after all – forgetting.

"Her. It's a girl" He clarified happily. Sometimes Soda's optimism and happiness really grates at my nerves. Today was one of those days, and I still had a hangover.

"Well, great. Call the new! We're taking it back either way" I told him in the pessimistic way that many people find charming. The Winston charm – that's what they call it.

"Why not?" He asked. I think we both knew he sounded like a little kid, but I didn't have the energy to argue.

"We just aren't. Dammit, Soda. In what world could any of us be able to take care of a f**king baby, never mind be _allowed_ to keep one" I hiss. The sooner we forgot the better it would be – all of us. Getting soft doesn't fix anything, except create false hope and fragile happiness.

Soda looked hurt, but only slightly. We all knew, and it ain't my fault he wants to play house.

"Yeah, I know" Soda said, sighing and picking the baby up. He thrust it at me, holding only as long as needed so I couldn't drop it. It squirmed in my arms and fit unnaturally in my arms – I was reluctant to even touch it.

"What the Hell are you doing?" I questioned, my voice going an octave higher in surprise.

"Take her back, then." Soda said, rising to go clean the dishes. "After all, you wouldn't want to get attached"

I could feel the anger, and the fear at being trusted with it. I was carrying a human – a small human that felt very fragile and breakable. I didn't say that, though.

"F**k you" I said scathingly, turning to leave. If nobody else would do it, then I would. After all, it has to be done, and who better than a hoodlum to walk down the street with a baby?

What I needed was about four aspirins, and a car, but I walked out the door and set out for the middle class. I'd be damned if I was going to let the kid become a spoiled brat names some shit name like Seraphina. The walk was long, and the December frost made my nose cold, but I didn't stop until I was wandering along the streets of a respectable neighborhood.

What happens next was unexplainable, at least now, but at the time it had felt so right. The familiarity of the eyes, I knew them. They belonged to every youthful pup, innocent and trusting. And still trusting after being kicked every night. Ignorance and stupidity in a mournful concoction that inspired pity and admiration.

I have to skimp on this part, because no matter how I tell it, it sounds like something out of _Cinderella, _with the pumpkins and the gown; the turning point, the climax like a snap when everything makes since and you make a choice that can never be undone. I tried, really I tried to leave.

The house was chosen carefully by the white paint and the blue shutters, the swept sidewalk, and the detectable yip of a dog jumping from inside the door. Somebody had dug out a fleece sweatshirt to put over the baby for warmth more than anything else, and I walked up to the door fully prepared to set my jaw and leave it there.

I checked for people watching before I put the baby down on a cloth posing as a welcome mat, then closed my eyes while I turned away. I couldn't look at it, if I didn't see its eyes it wasn't a person. This is a lesson that I'll have learned years later in the military, and I suppose it's useful here. Everywhere.

I was proud of myself, for coming and going unnoticed and uncaring. Down the steps, out the gate, to the right back towards the East. Gone.


	3. Chapter 3

And I almost made it down the first block, too, before I heard the unquestionable scream that had sent me into that dark alley what felt like years ago. In reality, it was last night. The same way it had last night, the sound made me stop and my self-confidence plummet.

Looking back, I can see that it wasn't as sudden as it all sounds. No, it's been coming for a while, weeks even – a fault line turned canyon since Johnny died. Because Johnny; that was my only reason for living itself, and now that he's gone I know what it feels like to be without purpose. 'But no' said the Priest when I indulged him to my thoughts. This happens a mere week later. 'Everybody has purpose. God made sure of that'. God also made sure that he killed my only purpose, but for what? For a new purpose? Perhaps.

Now, I hear the sound, but I'm not on a quiet neighborhood sidewalk – Fire before me, behind me, inside me. The terror of thinking I'd accidently killed someone right before a blood-curdling scream comes from the church. Death, life – the same.

Before I realize what I'm doing, I'm running back down the sidewalk, flinging open the gate, listening to the dog howl and roughly lifting the squalling thing into my arms. Unnatural still, but perhaps it will always be this way.

I was too late for Johnny. I won't be too late again. Now I know why I went back; guilt. Guilt is a powerful, so powerful that I would take my future in my hands and fling it over a cliff. But there's no going back, now. I'll say one thing; I beat it out of there, fast. I didn't slow down until I was on the Curtis's front porch, and then I got very nervous. My mother was right – I had a hang up about getting attached. Of course, she said that after Earl shot the stray kitten that I had tried to keep.

I chose this, no matter the odds, and I have to be proud of it – that's the only way to go through life. No shame.

At least my fate was postponed for the time being, as Darry would be working for another few hours or more.

"Hey, Dal" Two-Bit greeted from the kitchen. I nodded in return before sat down hard on the couch. It seemed that nobody else was home, Soda and Steve still being at work, and lord knows where Ponyboy was. I was relaxed; eyes closed, the kid in my arms forgotten so it felt almost natural.

"You still got that thing?" Two-Bit questioned, interrupting my peace, and bringing my attention back to the problem at hand.

"Yeah, man" was my reply.

"When you gonna drop it off?" He said after a pause, ever so persistent.

"I'm not" At this, his jaw dropped, the bottle of beer long forgotten so it stayed put halfway to his mouth. His expression brought a smirk to my face – I had rendered the loud mouth speechless.

"Why?" he finally asked. I could hear the radio playing faintly in the kitchen, and the tick of the clock on the wall. I waited to come up with a smartass remark before I opened my mouth.

"I dunno. Kinda tuff don'tcha think?" I joked. I had no reasons, except that I had grown attached in a way that reminded me of the first time I met Johnny.

_The sky was orange at dusk – a good omen, perhaps, but at thirteen I wasn't into that shit. I met Johnny Cade a few minutes before I ever knew the gang existed, a fact that never seemed to matter to either of us, or anyone for that matter. It was early March with the cold front just beginning to move out, but not soon enough for a boy without a jacket. I remember the gooseflesh covering my bare arms on my walk to the park – my only activity for the time being. Just two days earlier I spent my first day in Tulsa, my first day in Oklahoma, my first day in the Mid-West. Too many firsts for a lone boy with no home roughing it in an empty parking lot. _

_ I took a sluggish walk around an old neighborhood – a thing that had not too long ago been a foreign concept to me. My life was spent in apartments, on dirty pavement in a populated city where going for a walk was endangering your life. To be free was something I still hadn't quite wrapped my head around; my eyes scanned the way ahead, my peripheral detecting ominous movement. My hands were clenched in the pockets of my tattered blue jeans, just waiting for trouble. I was used to it, and every aspect of my being beckoned it. _

_ The wind was strong, every noise carrying on the flat Oklahoma land. I came to a stop on the sidewalk, my hardened eyes glued to the scene a few houses away; a young boy – only about ten it looked like – getting reviled, and smacked around. It wasn't uncommon, especially where I came from, but his hardened and solemn expression stirred begrudged respect from me. I stood still, waiting until finally the shouting faded, and the boy turned away without protest to continue a ways ahead of me. _

_ "Hey!" I shouted as tough as I could muster, trying not to sound like the lonely boy looking for a friend we both knew I was. I was hardened, but still a boy. _

_ "Wait up!" I continued yelling, stooping so low as to jog to catch up to the boy who hadn't seemed to hear me. I grabbed his arm roughly, yanking him around for him to notice me._

_ "Hi" he replied finally – quite, soft, worn down. _

_ "Listen when I'm talking to you" I growled with the most force I could muster, the only way I knew how to demand respect – a trick I had learned from my gang on the West Side._

_ The boy nodded without a word, his dark eyes wide._

_ "You ain't gonna jump me, are you?" He questioned, sounding worried. I didn't know what getting 'jumped' was at the time, but I played along like I understood._

_ "Course not. Listen, I was wonderin' if you knew of anything good to do around here?" I asked him, hoping I didn't sound as desperate as I felt. The boy nodded._

_ "I got a few friends down that way" he answered, pointing ahead of us "We play ball, and stuff." A moment went by when neither of us spoke, but the question lingered in the air like smoke._

_ "You could come. I'm goin' there now" He offered meekly. I nodded without a word, and we continued down the street. _

_ "I'm Johnny" he said after a minute of walking._

_ "Dallas"_

Twice I've experienced that feeling – to be alone in a world that you thought was your reign only to realize that you were never king at all; to lose a reason to live. Twice I've lost, and now twice I've won.


	4. Chapter 4

The slam of the truck door made my heart beat a little faster, but only a little. In the time before Darry got home, Two-Bit had gotten right to work.

_"If you're keepin' 'er, then ya gotta call her somethin'" He said pointedly, glancing at the kid seated in Darry's arm chair, looking pretty content with that bear of hers again. I looked over tiredly. We were lounging in the living room with the radio on, a dazed feeling sweeping over the room._

_ "Okay. Like what?" I questioned. I had made the decision, but I wasn't as gung-ho as Two-Bit about naming it. Her. With a sigh, he propelled himself off the couch only to go over to a bookcase in the corner of the room. It was practically forgotten to everybody – a low, oak bookcase that had stacks of mail, playing cards, and cigarettes on it. It sagged with the weight of heavy coffee-table type books._

_ Before I knew it he had pulled out a small, dust covered book and sat down in front of the coffee table with it. _

_ "What's that?" I asked him, eyeing it suspiciously. _

_ "Baby book" He answered, head down, flipping rapidly through pages. I snorted, almost spilling my beer._

_ "What're you hoping to find?" _

_ "Names" He stated, focusing on the small print. I gave in and we began bouncing names around. Sarah, Mary, Helen, Susan, Ruth, Anna. By the time we were through the entire thing, the sun was damn near set and my mind was reeling. _

_ "Okay f**k this. Joanna." I said after getting fed up with it. Two-Bit had nearly gone to sleep._

_ "What?"_

_ "Joanna" I repeated, no question about it. I never told him or anybody why I chose that name. Maybe I'll tell her when she's older._

Darry walked through the door with a sigh, lugging his tool belt and box. He stopped on his way to the kitchen, eyes locked on what was sitting his armchair.

"What is she still doing here?" He questioned. I didn't even have the heart to lie to him.

"I'm keeping her" I stated. He continued to the kitchen, setting his tools on the table with a thud before coming back only to be at a loss for word.

"Dallas, can I talk to you? _Alone_" he stressed. I followed him to the front porch.

"It isn't that simple" He began.

"I know that. I'm not stupid"

"There's gonna be a bunch of paperwork, then you gotta clean up your act, visits with the social service people…" Darry trailed off. "And, I can't let you stay"

"What?" I asked. I'm pretty sure my jaw hit the floor.

"We just don't have the money to take care of the baby. And if Mrs. Lynch finds out, Pony and Soda could be out in a second. There's just too much on the line" He explained. I could see that – it just wasn't fair to them. It's bad enough they got me bumming around.

"Yeah okay, man." I reasoned. "Just give me some time"

Darry nodded, probably glad I hadn't decided to have a go at him. He probably didn't feel like kicking my ass.

He gave me a week, which I used to get a job – that surprised just about everybody, most of all me. I get paid about five bucks a week as a bag boy with Two-Bit, which wasn't too shabby of a job. I moved back into Buck's while I found an apartment, something that would have to happen soon. I couldn't go out too much, and I was slowly killing my alcohol intake. In fact, I was pretty much a hermit. I ignored the gang, Shepard, Sylvia. Everybody. After about a month I worked up the courage to actually go to the Court House.

I left Joanna with the Curtis's. It was the first time I'd seen them in awhile, so showing up in their house and asking a favor was pretty uncomfortable. Luckily, Darry was gone, and Soda agreed to watch her.

Over the past month, I got more attached than I'd like to admit. She was talking now, pretty good at it too, although sometimes she would repeat nonsense over and over again.

Now, standing in front of the judge I saw all the problems. The chips are always down when it's our turn.

"We have to take her into the orphanage" Mrs. Sherwood stressed. She was the person I'd been referred to in Social Services. That fact alone mad me begin to get nervous.

She review the paperwork I'd spent hours filling out, eyes pausing on a few facts.

"You just turned eighteen?" She clarified. I nodded.

"Look, Mr. Winston. With your track record it would take a long time before you could even get a consultation."

"How long?" I questioned.

"Give or take a few months... a year at best. Maybe two" I knew she pitied me, but I would have to get used to it. I just have to jump through their hoops for awhile.

"Okay. So why would it take so long?"

"First of all, we would need to talk to your parole officer. With your record, getting that cleared up could take a long time."

"How long?" I insisted. This woman was beginning to get on my nerves.

"Right now, it's unclear. I'll contact your parole officer then get back to you" She allowed. It seemed as though I was getting on her nerves too. I knew what she was saying – it's a waste of time, because with all my problems there's no hope.

"We'll send over a person to collect her. In the next week or so"

I shook her hand with the nicest attitude I could muster before getting up and walking as fast as possible out of that building. A week. I had a week, and there's no hope.


	5. Chapter 5

While the week sped by, I wondered why I wanted this. I had for all intents and purposes abandoned my reputation, my friends, even any hope of a future and for what? Some kid? The truth? Yeah. And I still hadn't figured out why.

As I questioned myself I tried to make the most of my despair. I worked every day with Two-Bit from seven to five, which left little to no time with Joe, as I'd come to call her.

That day, I woke up at six-thirty every morning, took a quick shower, and spent the rest of my time talking to Joe. I had taken to conversing with her about nothing in an almost insane way – I would turn up the radio, or tell her about all the shit I used to do. I would tell her about the gang, and New York. She only responded every once in a while, all gibberish. Nonetheless, I kept at it in a way that worried even me.

I lied to myself by saying that it was to help her learn – she was just getting into that stuff – but I'd come to realize that I had grown lonely. Anyway, that day she was sitting on a small rug in front of my small television – a little black and white job that got three static channels – in an onesie that Soda has laboriously paid for. At the moment, Mickey Mouse was coming on. Her dark eyes were glued on the screen.

I finished up, grabbing her and a jacket before heading out the door. I'd been taking her to work with me mostly because I had no place else to put her. Two-Bit can't get over it. The manager insisted that she could stay with him in his office, which worked out real nice.

It was Wednesday, and I had perched on my hip (when I was out with Joe and bumped into Shepard, he laughed his ass off and called me crazy. It only occurred to me later that he was the crazy one; while all his boys are digging themselves into a hole six feet under, I was clawing my way out) while I walked to the bus stop, something I abhorred, when I saw The Soc. Was it only months ago that I was sitting behind her at the drive in? It seemed so much longer. I felt so much older, like I had aged at least fifty years in the past few months.

Since she had decided to spy for us she gained a little bit more respect in my eyes, but that doesn't mean we became friends. She was still a looker, and I had some of that lust from the night at the drive in left, but she became more of a person to me. It's only about seven in the morning – I was running late – and she was walking 'devil-may-care' down a street in Greaser territory, a thing that has since Bob's death become a suicide mission. It doesn't matter if I liked her or not, I had principles; being suicidal ain't one of them, which is funny coming from me.

"Hey" I said, grabbing her arm and yanking her around to face me. She gasped and ripped her arm from my hand.

"Glory, you scared me!" She exclaimed. I think the only reason she wasn't telling me to go to hell was that I had caught her off guard.

"Oh, yeah? What do you think you're doing?" I questioned angrily. She glared at me.

"What do you care?" I sighed heavily, trying to ignore Joe's struggle to reach for Cherry.

"You know, I never would have thought it was true" Cherry replied, ignoring my question completely. Her eyes were glued on Joe, something I figured I would have to grow used to. Even the gang hadn't gotten used to it yet.

"Oh really?" I yawned as though I couldn't care less. In fact, I did. My isolation had somewhat shattered my tough façade.

"I didn't believe Pony when he told me"

"So ya'll are talkin' now" I stated. Last I knew, Cherry had been giving him the cold shoulder. I didn't know why, but I figured it had something to do with Bob.

By now, Joe was protesting, gripping a soft hand around the manicured finger Cherry had offered. If I were a dog, I think my hackles would've raised. Their interaction bothered me in a way unbeknown to me.

"Can I hold her?" I was distracted by the arrival of the wheezing bus.

"Actually, I gotta get going. How about the drive in tonight?" I offered quickly, very aware of the ticking seconds. Cherry looked surprised at this, but nodded slowly as though surprised by herself.

"Sure"

"Seven?" I questioned. She nodded in affirmation, and I hurried onto my bus, leaving Cherry standing alone on the street. It only occurred to me a minute later that not only had I just made a date with The Soc, but I had no idea how to contact her. And if that wasn't enough, I was nervous. The thought was enough to make my heart start beating a little faster.

I distracted myself with Joe, who was sitting on my knee and beginning to protest loudly.

And so began my first real relationship with The Soc.


	6. Chapter 6

"I know, I know" I muttered to Joe as I rushed in the back door to the manager, Mr. Parachini's, office.

I barely remembered to knock before I entered. The balding man was seated at a cluttered desk looking tired. "Mr. Winston. Good to see you. You can just set her down on the carpet" He instructed without looking up. This is how it goes every day; I come in, I put her down on a carpet in the corner, which is scattered with stuffed animals and other 'necessities', then I leave. From what I know Mr. Parachini seems like a pretty nice guy, but we haven't really talked – something I wasn't very regretful of yet.

"Mornin'" I greeted when I saw Two-Bit shelving beans with his eyes closed. He grunted in response, probably hung over which shouldn't be a surprise to him anymore. I proceeded to tie on the ugly maroon smock we're forced to wear before joining him in shelving.

Though Two-Bit's usually chock full of wild stories, he was silent today. I didn't mind too much; I was tired too. By ten o'clock we had moved to the getting stock from the back room, and his silence was grating on my nerves. I know, I never thought it could happen.

"What's your problem?" I asked, shoving him over, probably more rough than I'd intended. He shoved me back even harder with fire in his eyes. Before I knew it, he was sitting down on a crate of jars running his hands through his greased hair.

I was starting to get worried – this was unusual. It's usually only Pony who acts this dramatic.

"It's Cathy" He stated, voice shaking and stressed. Two-Bit said it low, having to clear his throat a couple of times.

"And?" I prompted, anger easing into my tone. I didn't need him being all secretive.

"She's pregnant"

'Shit' was all I could say. I guess none of us were expecting it, least of all him, but who am I to talk? I'd gone and blown everybody's mind.

"What'cha gonna do about it?" We were whispering now, because in the back room you never know who might be listening. It's a cavernous, warehouse type place with people lurking around all kinds of corners, and I know for a fact that Ritchie (a lanky, pimple faced teen who bores an unhealthy resemblance to Buck) enjoys eavesdropping.

"Cathy says she knows some kind of doctor…" He trailed off. I don't think either of us knew quite what that meant, only that she'd lose the baby.

"Shit" I repeated. I was stunned. We both were. I didn't have much time to think on this before I could hear approaching voices and another employee popped his head in.

"Winston?"

"What?" I replied quickly, returning to the task at hand as though I'd been doing my job.

"Mr. Parachini needs to see you" Was all he said before he left. Two-Bit and I looked at each other, knowing exactly what this meant. It had to be something with Joe, and that couldn't be good.


	7. Chapter 7

I rapped my knuckles on the door then let myself in. The boss himself was standing up behind his desk, Joe was still in the corner (reaching up to a bookshelf in order to stand up, something she had recently been figuring out), and a stranger sat in the chair across from him.

I didn't like the look of this guy - his brown suit and fancy shoes screamed of a Soc who went to law school.

"Mr. Winston" the stranger greeted with a bland smile. "I called your home, but you weren't home. Luckily your boss was able to help me."

It wasn't Mr. Parachini's fault. Just keep saying that, I reminded myself.

"Who are you?" I growled. At my question the man's smile faltered, and he crouched like he was indecisive abut wether to sit or stand.

"Sorry, introductions slipped my mind. Mr. Alec Richards. I was sent from the Department of Social Services about-"

Mr. Alec Richards looked down at a thin folder laying on the boss's desk.

"Joanna" I supplied.

"Right"

Suddenly my throat began to construct and it was hard for me to speak. The back of my neck was sweating and I could hardly contain my anger.

"They told me I had a week"

"We said that we'll get her at some point in the week" Mr. Richards corrected. He didn't look at me.

The boss had slipped out at some point, because now it was just us.

"You can't just take her" I protested.

"It's my job. Don't worry, we will defidently get your paperwork through soon"

I was powerless as he had the audacity to scoop up Joe and lead me to a pale caddy parked on the street.

"We'll be in touch" he promised, placing Joe in a car seat before getting in himself.

There was a lump in my throat when they left. The impact of brick on my knuckles lessened the pain slightly. Holding my bleeding knuckles I reminded myself "play the game".

That's all.

To hell if I'm going to let Mr. Alec Richards take her


	8. Chapter 8

Needless to say, the rest of the day went by slow. If I had it my way then I wouldn't have had to tell Two-Bit. It seemed like devastating news, even though we all knew it would happen. The guy weaseled it out of me, and I suppose it wouldn't've been fair to him seeing as how much he likes Joe.

I gave up on trying to work, and left at my lunch break. I had one thing on my mind – something that I hadn't wanted to do since I was a little kid – and that was _talk. _I wanted to tell someone how shitty life was, and have them care. Was that too much to ask? Yeah, it was.

The sixties didn't offer much. I sauntered out the front door of the store and made my way around town. I didn't know who to talk to. Of late I've had nobody to listen (the gang had been making themselves scarce, or I had), so my options were limited. I wandered down the streets and up avenues until I realized what I wanted.

Shit, I didn't wanna talk. Talking never solves anything. I needed a good fight or to get laid; I needed some action for the first time in a month. I made my way to Shepard's house intent on slashing his tires, but found curly sitting on their porch smoking.

Curly didn't say anything to me when I walked up. He's a carbon copy of Tim – all dark hair and a mean face, lanky like a panther. We never got along much. It was too late now, though. There I was standing in their grass with Curly staring at me and no way out.

I couldn't very well slash Tim's tires with his kid brother staring at me. I was about to turn around when their front door protested and Tim stepped out.

"Hey, Dal. How's it goin', man?" He greeted. Tim and I are like brothers, but I never know what to expect with him. Tim slapped Curly upside his greasy head and told him to get lost in a tone I might've listened too. Curly is always got this tough act on, but everybody knows he's a baby. It wasn't a surprise he didn't hesitate in making his way down the street and quick.

"It's going good, man"

"Yeah, yeah..." He trailed off, taking a drag on his fag, "Hey, you still got that kid?"

I laughed like it wasn't tearing me up. "Naw, man. They took her this morning"

Tim scrutinized me, like he could see every emotion I was holding back. He laughed at me a long time in that way that drives girls crazy. It was long and slow, and he took his sweet time answering. He likes to do this to everyone like he's some being of a higher knowledge, and I guess he is a genius cause he's got that huge gang of his. His boys are a real gang, just like in New York. If you need anything, you go to him.

"You should go see the priest" He suggested, dropping the fag and kicking it out in the grass. All you could see was the yellow – that's just how Tim smokes. He takes everything, and if anybody else is wasting their fag he'll take the rest of that too. I know that first hand. I have a hard time finishing things – food, cigarettes, and work. Everything.

Now I laughed at him. "Are you f**king kidding?"

His mood changed quick as a viper. "No, I ain't kidding. He gets things done real fine." Tim's eyes were black as night with the mood swing. I didn't bother staying to finish that conversation. Tim may have a point – his family's Catholic, but that may be because his uncle, Father Oscar, supplies the drugs for his gang. He's got a real nice racket going with those church guys.

I didn't plan on going to the church. I planned on getting wasted at Buck's, but I couldn't get Tim's words out of my head. I passed the large church, went down the street, and cussed myself out when I turned back around.


	9. Chapter 9

The inside was cavernous, like I had been swallowed by a beast. The ceilings had to be ten feet tall, and the building was dimly lit. I felt like I was in a horror movie. There was a tile floor and wooden pews. Stained glass windows lined the walls and there were statues of saints and shit everywhere. It was making my skin crawl just looking at it.

There wasn't anybody around. In fact, it looked abandoned, but I figured at this time on a Wednesday it wouldn't be hopping. I snooped around until I discovered a – get this – dimly lit hallway with offices.

Again it felt very surreal, like twilight zone. I read plaques until I found the priest's office. I could see him bent down over a desk through the small window; my knuckles echoed on the thin door.

He looked up, a balding man with a Santa Claus type face. Exactly the type of guy you'd expect to be in place like this. The man – the priest, or pastor or whatever – smiled as he ambled to invite me inside.

"Hello. Pastor Shrouse" He introduced himself looking as pleased as could be. The whole atmosphere (this guy had some hymns or shit playing on the radio) almost made me want to retch. Although, Shepard did suggest it. It made me wonder if this guy knew him.

"Yeah, hey! D'you know a Tim Shepard?" I asked rudely, ignoring all intentions of introductions. Shrouse (as I've come to call him over the years) looked startled as my abrupt rudeness, but then he chuckled with a familiar fondness.

"Yes, I believe I do know him. A fine fellow" Shrouse replied, motioning for me to have a seat across from him at his desk. I'll come to realize that that's how many important conversations start. I didn't bother correcting him on his interpretation of Shepard, either.

"So, uh. Can I talk to you?"

"Well, that's what I assumed you were here for" Shrouse joked. I took that as a 'yes' and launched right into my story from when Johnny died, to this morning. By the end Shrouse looked shocked and impressed. I never even told him my name.

"So, I just wanted to know what you think's gonna happen, or like pray or somethin'" I concluded lamely. He nodded slowly. In the time I'd been talking he had come to sit in the chair next to me like we were old pals or something.

"As for telling you what's going to happen, I couldn't even imagine. Although, I suspect that the social services would be impressed with your commitment. I really do hope it all pans out, though. But what with the praying part, we can absolutely do that"

I didn't know what to say. In my mind it seemed like there should be some giant show of prayer or something, but all Shrouse did was take my hands in his and close his eyes and say a prayer so long I felt myself getting fidgety. By the time he was done, I was speechless.

I let myself out after thanking him, and when I was back on the dark streets I felt like I had returned from a different world. I don't know what I was expecting. I think it was for everything to have been cleared up, but that diffidently wasn't what happened. If anything, I was more confused and angrier than I had been. All I knew was that it was seven o'clock and I was late for a date.


	10. Chapter 10

I wrapped my leather jacket around myself in vain of warding off the wind and prayed to God that nobody in the gang was at the movies. To be honest, I hadn't expected her to agree, so I don't know why I asked. I didn't even feel like going.

I reached the drive in, scanning the perimeter for any watchful eyes, then slipped in through a hole in the chain-link fence. I felt myself calm down once I was amongst people. I'm not sure why; that's how it is these days – I get alone and it's like I can't function just right.

I sauntered over to the area where people without cars go – a little stand of bleachers right in front of the screen. It was filled with junior high kids and packs of girls going stag. It wasn't much for a party, but I figured this is where Cherry might end up. I took a seat and waited through the first movie. The sky deepened and the first credits were rolling when I realized that maybe she wouldn't come.

Once the second movie of the night was starting up I began walking around – the parking lot, the concessions stand. I didn't spot her, but I went back to my seat thinking we had just missed each other. I'm not even sure why I was rooting for her so much; why I hoped beyond reasonable hope that she had accepted my offer. Maybe so I would know that there are real Soc's out there who would show up for a date with a hood. If that's what it proved, then it has still to be proven. As it was, she didn't show.

I waited around until the second movie's credits were rolling, then I made a promise to myself. 'I'll go look around again, and if she's there then I'll stay. If she isn't, then I'll head to Buck's' I told myself. I did look - the parking lot, the concessions stand, everywhere.

As it was, I had a good night at Buck's.


	11. Chapter 11

** (note: Dallas's punishment is not factually accurate)**

The next day I awoke in my own bed without a memory of how I got there. I peeled myself from the warmth of bed and forced myself to take a shower. I took a short shower before getting dressed and going straight to the police station.

Officer Doberman looked up when I walked in, locking his jaw when he recognized. I grinned with the carefree attitude that I used to possess and went over to the counter.

"What'dya want Winston?" He questioned, sounding angry at my presence.

"Just wanted to talk to Rich" I replied, tapping my fingers against the counter and messing with everything. I found a pen I liked and proceeded to draw what was supposed to be someone holding a fag while Doberman rolled his chair to the metal desk that held my file.

"You aren't supposed to see him till next month" Doberman reminded. I sneered at him while I retired my drawing to the trash can and the pen to the counter.

"So maybe I wanna see him sooner. Just take me to him. Jesus" I said with exasperation. Doberman sighed, putting my file back in the desk and motioning for me to follow him. He led me down a hallway lit by florescent lighting to a pathetic office.

"Rich, Winston's here to see ya" Doberman informed before leaving me in the doorway.

Richard White is a balding man who couldn't be more than thirty, with little remaining strength in the muscle department and a personality that gave sandpaper a run for its money. Everything rubs him the wrong way, so I was careful when I chose my words.

"What?"

"Have you talked to the people at the agency yet?" I asked first. He looked up at me with confusion painted like red on his face.

"What? No, I haven't. What agency?"

"Social services said they'd talk to you about getting my record cleared up" I clarified. Rich burst out in laughter that probably hasn't been heard since he was a kid, and didn't stop for a good long while. I grew more irate by the minute until I couldn't contain myself.

"What the f**k's your problem, man?" I exclaimed, banging my fist on his desk to show him I meant business. When he finished chuckling he answered.

"Winston, getting your record cleared is gonna take a long while. What the hell for, anyway?"

I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. "I know, but there's this girl I wanna get custody of an' that's what they said it would take."

Rich seemed to take me seriously for a moment, looking at me before resigning himself to looking at what it would actually take. "Okay, sure. A hellofa lot of community service that's for sure. An' probably… six months in the reformatory. It don't really mean much, but that's pretty much just a precaution."

"You sure?" I asked. Rich nodded, looking sure of himself. "Okay then. Get on it" I ordered.

"Now? Give me a day" He begged. I don't think it was so much about the time it would take as it was about his damn laziness.

"I'll wait"


	12. Chapter 12

I sat in the monotonous office while Rich disappeared for a few hours. I didn't have a watch or I woulda counted. Finally Rich returned and I couldn't help but feel slightly abandoned.

"Okay, you're all set" Rich greeted with a half smile.

"Set for what? Give me details, man" I ordered. After a few hours I was _slightly_ grumpy.

He sighed, sitting down, putting on his reading glasses and proceeded to reply "I was pretty much spot on. About six months of community service in the reformatory. You be here tomorrow morning, and Rick out front will drive you down to the county pen"

I leaned back in my chair and watched Rich give a rueful smile. I glared at him, thinking he was laughing at my expense.

"Ya know, Winston, I admire what you're doing right here. Getting straightened out an' everything. Only problem is I can't figure out why you would doing it"

I gave a wolfish grin that masked the woe I'd felt since Wednsday. "All I can say is I got a real nice girl waiting for me" I hinted.

I was up and out the door before Rich realized I didn't make any sense.


	13. Chapter 13

Now I'm outside the county jail waiting on Darry to pick me up from his work. When I'd called the house Soda mentioned that he'd been promoted, which made me slightly happier. I checked my watch again and restrained myself from pacing until the familiar rumble of his pickup truck sounded on the horizon. It was awhile until he actually stopped in front of me and told me to get in 'cause he was already late.

Once I was in the car Darry told me we had about a forty minute drive ahead of us.

"So what's it feel like to finally be a free man?" he joked while he fiddled with the radio. I chuckled and replied, "feels good, man. That's all I can say. Ya know, like when you were a kid and it was the last day before summer vacation. Like that"

Darry nodded. "And the state? What other hoops they makin' you jump through?"

I snorted. "Just about every one, although this was the biggest. I guess now I just gotta go plead my case to that bitch Mrs. Sherwood. How 'bout you? Find a girl yet?" I figured I mighta missed a lot in six months.

"Yeah, I met a girl. Names Hannah, and she's coming over for dinner tonight so you best not scare her off" He warned. I laughed at this, but mostly cause we all figured Darry would go queer one of these days, what with his lack of a social life.

"What for?"

"You're coming over, aren't ya?"

"Didn't quite know I was invited, but sure. I wanna go home and shower, though." Darry nodded, and that was the end of our conversation until we reached the shitty apartment complex where I lived. Actually it wasn't all bad, but it sure as hell wasn't the horse ranch I wanted.

I hunted around the fridge for something to eat, but I guess after half a year, everything's gone bad. The milk, at least. I took note of this and vowed to remember it before I took a shower. After I showered i got dressed and was left with nothing left to do but go to the grocery store.

The clock read seven o'clock - not enough time to run to the store, so i sat on my depressing couch. I flipped on the television, but nothing on there ever seems to satisfy me. The most i can tolerate is the radio, and even then i would rather be out doing _something. _

i suddenly realized how boring my 'house' is, and wondered why i never realized it before. The answer i came up with made me feel sick to my stomach, like a physical pain. I knew why they called it a broken heart. It hurt like hell, and there was nothing i could do.

My eyes were fixated on Joe's corner - her second-hand crib, and small supply of toys. The diapers and onesies that she seemed to need so many of.

I swung my legs off the couch and moved to the door with no knowledge of my own actions, figuring that Darry wouldn't miss me too much if i didn't show.


	14. Chapter 14

I guess i was stupider than i'd thought, because when i showed up in Mrs. Sherwood's office that night, she shot me down immediately. All i remember is feeling my chest constrict and a pain like a broken rib.

"These things take _time, _Mr. Winston" she enunciated with the evident tone that i'd done nothing to annoy her.

"You said to get it worked out with my parole officer. Well, i did. I was in the slammer for _six months_, and you're tellin' me it takes longer. How much longer?" i snarled. I couldn't fucking believe this woman! How fucking _long _do i have to wait?

"I'm not sure right now. Anyway, there's nothing i can do anymore . You need to set up a court date to obtain custody."

"Who do i talk to?" i asked.

"_Mr. Winston_" she replied sharply. I knew i was being too pushy, but i couldn't stop myself. At least, it felt like that. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave"

I wanted to slam her against the wall, and throw things. I wanted to smash my fist against the wall and overturn her desk. I knew what i wanted and i knew how to get it, but it sure as hell wouldn't be here.

I wound up at Bucks, which i was starting to hope would be a recurring thing. The whole atmosphere lifted my spirits, and i felt like a blind man made to see. I don't even remember how i didn't miss it. I sure as hell missed it now.

I was busy flirting with a broad who was so close to me she might as well been on my lap with about two open buttons from needing a room. She looked ready for a good night, and i felt it. I was really beginning to get over my funk - my asocial behavior that had plagued me for a good while - when Tim fucking Shepard sauntered up.

"Man, Dallas. What'd you do to fuck up this time? Heard you was in for about six months" he commented, sitting where he was uninvited. I glared at him.

"Yeah? What's it to ya?" i asked angrily. I didn't need Shepard fucking up my first _fun _night in months, especially since i was gonna get lucky.

"Does it matter?"

He disappeared as quick as he'd come, and the stranger and i wasted no time getting upstairs.

Only an hour later i was walking purposefully towards the tracks that separate the grease from the hoods, and kept on walking till i came to a small, white house like all the others.

Same chain-link fence, and sagging porch. And there sat Tim's pride an' joy unguarded in the sorry excuse for a yard. Slashing the tires didn't take long. I just wished maybe TIm had come home in the middle of it, because we were both itchin' for a fight. He didn't, though, and i had nothing better to do than get my groceries, which finished the night with a surreal normal quality.

The fluorescent lighting hurt my eyes, and i hurried to get the milk. I vaguely contemplated stealing something - like a pack of smokes, but i held back. I wandered the aisles looking for cereal, but when i found it i didn't feel like gettin' it.

She stood transfixed in front of the _Kelloggs_, but her head was tilted up like she was debating whether or not to jump for what she actually wanted. Risk looking like a fool, but you get your cereal. She probably never wouldn't jumped for it if she'd known i was watching her.

Before i knew what i was doing, i had reached for the cereal and handed to her, and now i was watching her step back with her mouth open and her eyes wide.

"Thanks" she mumbled, embarrassed. I just gave her a nod of the head, but my mind was at that night at the movies. When she never showed. I wouldn't have brought it up if it weren't for her, neither.

"I didn't blow you off" she said when i was walking away. I felt my breath catch in my chest, and i pivoted. I launched into the conversation, unable to censure my voice of telling how much it bothered me.

"I waited for you, and i looked around, and you weren't there. So maybe you owe me a damn explanation" i accused. She was surprised at the harshness in my voice, but why should she be? What the hell was she expecting?

"i didn't mean to" she defended, but i had already turned away. She didn't call me back or nothin', which was smart. I wouldn't have answered anyway.


	15. Chapter 15

The next day was surprisingly productive. I saw Mr. Parachini about gettin' my job back, but it turns out i hadn't needed to. He was expecting me when i got back and told me i could start again the next day. I saw Two-Bit and told him i'd probably be around later, which would hopefully be the truth. I was done with being a recluse.

I stopped by the apartment to change out of my 'good' clothes (the crap i wore when i had to stay on somebody's good side, which was become more and more frequent), and mindlessly picked up my mail when i opened the door. I saw a bill from the landlord, with a telephone bill, the water bill and every other thing people could legally bill you for. It was all fucked up. My eye stopped on a thin, official looking letter. I tore it open, and damn near had a heart attack when i saw who it was from.

The official looking letter, filled with unsubstantial words, was from court. My eyes skimped over, pausing at important words - words like '_guardianship'_. And at the bottom was a typed date: in a week. 4/22/65.


	16. Chapter 16

I burst through the Curtis' door with all intentions of productivity gone from my mind. Everybody looked up suddenly at my entrance, and i went to go sit down calmly as i could on the sofa. They were looking at me expectantly, and i let out a sideways smile.

"You mind telling me what in _sam hill _you're doin' bursting through my door?" Darry asked, irritated. It was probably because i skipped dinner the other night, but hell - even i wouldn't want me meeting a new girlfriend, unless she was gonna stick around. Something told me maybe Darry's new girl would stick around.

"I got a court date" i told him. Two-Bit looked up from his card game with Pony.

"A court date? what'dya do now?" he asked stupidly. Steve let out an exasperated sigh and told him himself.

"A court date for the kid, you idiot"

Then Soda was insisting that we go out tonight, and Steve was reminding him that he had a drag race.

I hung around their place the rest of the day, talking bull and getting buzzed before we headed out to the races.

It felt like everybody in the world was at the abandoned track, which made it easy for us to pick up chicks. Darry didn't come, insisting that he was tired, but i think i knew what he was doing. And it involved that new girl, Hannah. Two-Bit, Steve and i met up before the race.

"Which one's his?" i asked Steve. He was tense, and looked pissed, but that's how he is before a race. He pointed at a ugly car closest to the edge. It looked about as good as Two-Bit's car, which is sayin' something. They wouldn't race it if they hadn't been working on it awhile, though. I heard a faint shout, and the blast of a gun, and they were off. The tension was palpable, and i saw Soda edge towards the front. Soda was a good driver, sure, but not as good as Steve. You could tell he wasn't near as confident when he cut in front of the car.

They were about to round the corner, and i could see it; what was gonna happen. He was goin' too fast to make the turn, even i knew that. Horse racin' is the same way. Hell, even an idiot could know he's going too fast.

Then it happened - the car screeched on the dirt, fishtailing. The opponent - some guy from Brumley - hit Soda's bumper at going about ninety, which sent Soda careening towards the side, rolling over and over until he came to a rest upside down. Steve was scrambling towards him, and Two-Bit and I followed.

Steve opened the driver's side door, and i hesitated. I didn't wanna see this, but i followed. When Soda emerged he was covered in blood. He completely drenched in his own blood, and looked unresponsive. We ran up, and carried him slowly toward's Steve's car. If Soda was okay, then i knew Steve would gripe about the stains for his whole life.

The hospital was filled with contained chaos. I hadn't been in a hospital since Johnny died, and i was itching to leave. The minute a doctor rushed Soda off to the E.R, i left. I didn't have a ride, so i walked the entire way.

It was well past two a.m before i made it home. The mail sat forlorn on the floor, where i'd left it. I hadn't gone through the whole stack before i left, and i picked it up curiously.

The buzz was wearing off, and i wished i was drunk so i didn't have to comprehend what i was holding. Funny how one letter could ruin my life, but it did. The envelope was stamped with my name. How could i avoid death and not avoid this? Maybe it was God's way of revenge.

Inside were documents with times and dates, and an official 'Dear Mr. Dallas Winston..."

I could avoid death, but i couldn't avoid the draft.


	17. Chapter 17

'_Never woulda hitch hiked to Birmingham_

_If it hadn't been for love_

_Never woulda caught the train to Louisian'_

_If it hadn't been for love' (If it Hadn't Been for Love. Steeldrivers)_

I got drunk by myself that night. That was the beginning of my alcoholism that plagued me for a few years, especially in the military. I couldn't believe it. I had _one fucking week_, and now i had to leave. And i knew that if you had a kid, they couldn't draft you.

I did a few things in my remaining week in Tulsa - i told my boss, who replied with a solemn "i'm sorry". I told the gang, and i told Mrs. Sherwood, who had the decency to at least look sorry. I had to tell Soda in the hospital; turns out he would be fine - he broke his leg and had a head would. I got him all worked up with the news, though, and the nurse made me leave, which was fine by me. Last of all, i told Cherry. i don't even know why, but i figured she ought to know if she ever had the intentions of going out with me.

Telling Cherry was easier than telling the gang, although with expectations that she would tell me to go to Hell, I guess it would be easier. I stood outside her house the night before I left, guessing which window was hers. Like hell was i gonna knock on the door, so that left me scouting out the windows and choosing the one with frilly curtains to throw the pebbles at. I only hoped i was right as i launched the pebbled.

The hit the center of the window pane, and i watched as a yellow light was flipped on. Lo and behold, Cherry opened the curtains in her nightgown looking frumpled and confused.

"Dallas! What are you doing?" she hissed, so as not to wake up her parents. At least i guess that's why.

"I gotta talk to you" i yelled as quiet as i could. I waited in her side yard for her to come down. She did about five minutes later - i knew she would, if only because of curiosity.

"What's going on?" she looked worried, and not the least fazed that i had woken her up in the middle of the night when we hadn't ever had a proper conversation.

"I got drafted" i told her point blank. Cherry's reacted slowly, staring past me then covering her mouth with her hand and whispering 'oh, God'. When she'd gotten it through her head, she shook her head like she was pushing away her emotions and focusing on the problem.

"When do you leave?" she asked sensibly. Man, that was tuff. In that moment, i don't think i've ever admired another chick like i admired her.

"Tomorrow"

"_tomorrow" _she repeated ponderously before coming up with an idea. "wait here" she ordered.

I stayed, and a few minutes later she came back down in actual clothes. They weren't Socy clothes, either. They were real clothes.

"let's go do something" she suggested. I eyed her. That chick never failed to surprise me.

"sure. I didn't bring no car, so i hope you're okay with walking" i told her a little critically. i expected her to put up a fuss, what with seeming a little prissy, but she agreed and we walked side by side down the street.

"what were you thinkin', princess?" i asked when we both realized we had no idea where we were going.

"We could see a movie" Cherry answered. I didn't feel like seeing a movie - i felt like taking her to the park and kissing the crap out of her, but i didn't object. She convinced me to pay for tickets, and led me to seats near where we had been sitting _that _night. Never in my life have i let a girl lead me anywhere, but the way she did it didn't suggest that she was a tough, loud broad. Sylvia used to try and lead me around town or bar hopping just for show. She was a big supporter of public affection, and i never had a problem with it.

We stayed for one movie; it was the most time sneaking out that Cherry risked, and afterwards as we were walking back, i couldn't help thinking that it hadn't been a shabby first date. I contained my urgency to kiss her for the whole movie, but as i did kiss her right before she snuck silently through the back door.

If i went to war for nothing, and God never gave me Jo, then at least maybe i had Cherry to look forward to.


	18. Chapter 18

'_Never woulda run through the blinding rain_

_Without one dollar to my name_

_If it hadn't been_

_If it hadn't been for love' (If it Hadn't Been for Love. Steeldrivers)_

I had to wake up early the next morning to make my bus to Shiloh. I caught a ride with Darry, 'cause he had a job on the way to the bus station. I told everybody not to come, and i left without saying goodbye. I thought if i left without saying goodbye then it would be easier on all of us - i was wrong. It was still hard, and i don't think i've ever felt more alone than i did getting on that bus.

Darry said nothing on the drive, but he shook my hand before i got on the bus. 'Be safe' he told me. I swallowed hard, and left without a response, because what can to say to that?

"i will"? You won't - you're going to a fucking war.

I didn't look out the window the entire bus ride, or at least i tried not to. There wasn't anything i wanted to see out there anyway. I kept asking myself '_why'_, until i realized i wouldn't come up with a good answer; eight hours later we stopped, and what going to war looked like was nothing like i imagined.

It was boring, for one. Lots of yelling, plenty of running; at the end of each day i was so exhausted that i had no time to think. That was just military training camp. I don't know why i thought they would just send us out to 'nam with no training. The food was awful, but that was one thing i was expecting.

...

It took about six months for me to finish the training camp, and i got an opportunity to take a week long break - go back to Tulsa, catch up with friends - but i didn't take it. I was saving up, 'cause you get enough free time saved up and you get to go home early. That's what i wanted.

"Winston. Get your ass out here!" a voice screamed, loud and rough as sandpaper. Rodrick Barnes liked to act tough, but everybody in our unit knew he was a pansy. Plenty of guys were that way, and it almost made me like the guys who kept pictures by their bunks better. Almost.

I got up reluctantly and strode outside into the sunlight. The sergeant was there, with two other guys. One was Barnes, and the other was Eddy Griffith.

Barnes was about thirty or so, tall, with a disposition like a doberman. All bark and no bite, or at least his bite wasn't too bad. He had no power, which was great, because he was the type of guy who could get high off that shit. I knew from late nights of overhearing the others' conversations that Barnes could get high off just about anything and everything.

Eddy Griffith was the one person i actually liked, as much as i hate to admit it. He reminded me so much of Johnny it hurt; he didn't look anything like him - Griffith had the reddest hair you've ever seen - but he had the same quiet toughness that Johnny possessed. Griffith was two years older than me, twenty, but he was about 5"8, and had a girl back in Tennessee. He showed me a picture, and i could imagine her pretty well.

"You boys be ready to go on Friday, you'll be on the front lines" was all the sergeant said before walking towards the obstacle course to hollar at soldiers newer than us. We just looked at each other, not wanting to say anything. The front lines meant action, and they meant death. A very ashamed part of me was excited.


	19. Chapter 19

"_Eddy. Eddy. _Eddy!" _He turned towards me, face pale as ever and just as sweaty. He looked scared as i felt, us being in the midst of battle. It felt hot, like when i went in after Johnny. Burning, like living in a furnace. Men were yelling, and my ears were ringing from gunfire. _

"_Winston" Eddy said to me, which is what everybody called each other. They all called each other by their last names, and i don't think i ever wanna be called 'Winston' again - not after this. "You're hit" _

_I knew that. That had been why i was yelling, but Eddy's affirmation made me feel sick. I looked over to see the crimson stain on my shoulder. It spread faster than i thought possible until i thought i was drowning. My entire body throbbed, and burned. It felt like i was being burned alive. _

When I opened my eyes it was bright, too bright. I got weird feeling, like Johnny would be in the room right down the hall, and Tim Shepard would be visiting soon. My entire body ached, but especially my shoulder, and was surprised to find it heavily bandaged when i dared to look. The sight of blood and gore has never been an aversion, but the knowledge that there was a fucking _hole _in my body was disturbing. I went out of my way to ignore it.

I wasn't quite sure what was happening, or what had happened, except that i'd been shot, that it hurt like a bitch, and that the fear of dying amidst countless faceless men scared me worse than anything else. I knew the before and after, but what had happened between the battle field and the hospital was a blur. I wasn't quite sure if i wanted to know.

I felt my body weighted down, my eyelids droop from an invisible force, and saw a nurse smiling cheerily by the bedside. I hadn't noticed her come in. It felt like a violation of my privacy, and all i remember thinking before sucumbing to the pull of the morphine was '_nurses shouldn't be allowed this much power'_.


	20. Chapter 20

'_Nobody knows it better than me_

_I wouldn't be wishing I was free_

_If it hadn't been_

_If it hadn't been for love' (If it Hadn't Been for Love. Steeldrivers)_

_The sun shone too brightly for the dirty, West Side streets of New York. I was walking back home in the early morning from a night of being out with my 'gang'. In New York, gangs were real. A legitimate threat, and you were never too young to be recruited or killed. I had a lifetime of looking over my shoulder under my belt, and at ten years old, I knew the score. I didn't have a blade on me that day - i let Kirk, a lean dark haired kid who was new to the gang, borrow my switch. That was my folly. I always thought it was Kirk's fault for losing his blade, but it wasn't his fault. _

_I was hoping to get home fast, but i was restrained to walking with a purpose instead of at least jogging, because running was admitting defeat. Running meant you were a coward, no matter the context, because the gangs were pit-bulls, and the streets were a dog-eat-dog world. A lifetime of metaphorical dog fights. I should have walked faster, or run despite the connotation, because i had Greg looking for my head on a stick; the week before i had got him in the side with my blade because he was stupid enough to get in a fight when he was soarin'._

_I saw their shadows in front of me, and i thought i was smart - watching them, knowing they were behind me. I always had been cocky, but usually not arrogant. That day i was feeling a big arrogant, so when they grabbed me by the arms and dragged me to the ally, i started mouthing off. Never mind that Greg's 'henchmen' were damn near three years older than i was - i was a god! Nobody could defeat me. I was cunning, like a silver haired fox. I thought i was tough shit. _

_I expected the guys to rough me up, or even kill me for their trouble, but they didn't. They were feeling cocky, too, i guess. Or maybe they were bored. It doesn't matter, because before i knew it i had a gun to my side - a little pistol type thing that resembled a toy - and they were marching me through the alley to a liquor store across the street. _

_One of the guys - Carl, i think his name was - who had the gun, slipped it in his pocket when we were out of the safety of the alley. I guess i was pretty stupid, because i really thought they would kill me. If i was thinking straight, i would've realized that no sane person would murder someone over something little like a knife wound - and in broad daylight too! It wasn't even that deep, either. Just bled alot. _

_I was forced to the door of the liquor store, and Carl whispered with malice in his voice, "I want you to rob the liquor store, or i swear to fucking jesus christ i'll blow your brains out". He was being very dramatic about it all, and if i knew half of what i knew years later, i would've called his bluff. i was stupid, so i did it. _

_I damn near made it back out the door with a bottle of Jack when i felt an almighty tug on my jacket, and i foolishly brought an elbow to the clerk's face before i realized that Carl and whatever the hell his name was had blocked the door and there was no escape. _

_The cops came for me half an hour later, and i was arrested at ten years old. _

'_Nobody knows it better than me_

_I wouldn't be wishing I was free_

_If it hadn't been_

_If it hadn't been for love' (If it Hadn't Been for Love. Steeldrivers)_


End file.
